Out of the Dark Light
by satanslut
Summary: *Set in Season 7 during Same Time, Same Place* Alone in the cave, Spike reveals to Willow that there's more to her than she ever knew.


Out of the Dark Light

"Now you're real, now you're not," Spike singsongs, staring at his thumbs, which are covered in the remnants of demon eyeballs. Willow would offer him something to wipe them off with that isn't his jeans if she weren't in so much pain.

Pain, oh god, pain.

This must be how Warren felt before he died. The agony of missing flesh, stripped skin, air where it was never meant to touch… Oh god this hurts so much. "Thank you," she says, through clenched teeth – the tight occlusion of her jaw a pain so much smaller than her flayed belly. "How…," she takes a deep breath; it's so hard to speak, "…how did you find me?"

He's staring at her as if that was the stupidest question ever asked. "The blood. It's all about the blood, isn't it?" It's sudden, the way his tongue seems to hit the brakes before speeding into speech again. "It means something to you all, doesn't it? The blood. If I give it back… will they forgive me?"

What is he talking…? Oh… oh… she can see… well, not so much see in the 'using her eyes' sense, but… "You have a soul."

Another look. "Well, yes," he says, as if she's made an observation so obvious that it's almost beneath contempt. Then his eyes go odd and vague. "Never gets lighter. Or does it?" Is he asking her a question? "You would know. Shiny things, knowing things." He's pacing – back and forth, back and forth – but then he stops and stands over her, angry. "Are you bloody stupid? I asked you: Does it get lighter?" He's yelling and she's terrified, helpless.

Or maybe not. After all, she has magic, doesn't she? Can't use it, though – or shouldn't, which is maybe more the point, and makes sense considering the golly-gee-whizbang-fun that almost ensued the _last_ time she used magic on the Hellmouth.

But she has other power, or she used to. Remember the days when it was all about the brain? "I'm not stupid," she says, trying to sound strong through gritted teeth and pain that refuses to be forgotten. "I just didn't know. Now I get it. You're thinking of _them_."

As suddenly as he… well, as suddenly as he does _everything_ lately, he kneels down beside her. "You're hurt." Really, Holmes? How long did it take you to figure that out? She doesn't say anything sarcastic out loud though, instead just nodding, and instantly regretting the movement as an infinitesimal tug on her abdomen turns into a fresh wave of indescribable agony. "I used to feed on pain like that," he says conversationally, seemingly entranced by the look of torment on her face.

Then he goes strange again, eyes focused on her stomach. "He's in there… Wonder of wonders, that. You're a cave yourself, aren't you, witch? A cave where all the bad boys go to hide, leave a piece of themselves as coin for the treasure chest. Is that why he can bear it?" Now she's starting to see a family resemblance between him and Drusilla. Her mom would have a field day with him. Of course, she'd be totally wrong at the end of the session, but she'd have a field day, nonetheless.

Back on track, however, what does he mean by… "He?"

"Angel," he says, giving her a soft, quizzical look. "Aren't I supposed to see him? Doesn't hide very well. But then, how could he? Big, lumbering git like him. Never much good at hiding." But he's still staring and it's freaking her out. "Would I be safe in there? Safe like he is? Safe where they can't get me?"

Oh god. He thinks she's a Tauntaun? This is not going to end well. How much worse will it hurt when he…?

But he doesn't. He just stares, not only at her belly, but at her face. "Can see him there sometimes – your eyes. The wrong colour though. Can you change that?" He answers for her, "No. Best not. Like 'em green anyway." It seems like he's searching her eyes now… searching for something. When he shakes his head and looks down, she guesses he didn't find it.

Then he speaks again, and it's to say something that hurts more than her maimed body ever could. "She's not there. Your girl. Thought for sure she'd be there."

She'd been in too much pain to cry, but more pain makes the tears spring forth. "You don't see her?" This close. She's this close to pleading for him to look again. Please. There has to be something. Anything. How can he see Angel in her and not Tara? "Red's a bad girl," she says softly, repeating what he'd said to her in the basement.

Her thoughts scream for something new to latch onto and they find it. It finally occurs to her absurdly late in the game that… shouldn't Spike be carrying her out of here or something? Going for help? Oh wait. He's crazy.

Should she ask?

She does. "Spike?" Her voice is soft and tentative. "Could you maybe… get someone to come here for me? Like Buffy?" Of course when she says that name, she remembers what Gnarl told her – that Buffy and the others had been here… had left her.

But she hadn't seen them.

"They can't see me, can they?" she says, cutting herself off before Spike has the chance to answer, "And I guess I can't see them."

"No one but us demons in the dark," he says, and she's about to argue that Anya could see her too, but then she remembers that Anya's a Vengeance demon again and it kind of makes Spike's point for him, doesn't it?

"So I guess I'm just gonna die here, huh?" It takes all her effort to be calm and say the words as casually and conversationally as she wants to because she's desperate for dignity right now.

There's that stare again. "What about your magic?"

Actually, she'd thought about that, but now that she tries… "I'm too weak," she says, and the tears are back. Pain always gets in the way, doesn't it?

He's not listening to her – instead he's staring at her belly, gazing into it like the secrets of the world are exposed beneath flayed skin. His hand is over the wound now and she feels… this would be what a magnet felt if it could feel, isn't it? Oh god. It's strange and scary and she doesn't like it, but she can't stop Spike's hand from being drawn to the center of her agony.

"Glowing," they both say at once, and Willow wishes she could pass out, because the pain may be leaving, but she sees…

Then there's a lot of noise as they're no longer alone.

"Willow!"

It would appear that she's visible again.

She can see her rescuers too.

Buffy and Xander – they're rushing to her and Spike is all but thrown aside as Buffy picks her up and there's babbling about not being able to find her, and Willow thinks she says the right things in return, but she doesn't hear them.

What she hears is the clatter of hooves on cobblestone streets and a haughty voice saying "You're beneath me," and what she sees is Spike off in the corner, staring at her with the oddest look yet.

There's a piece of him inside her, isn't there?

Somehow, she has a feeling that this is going to change things in a way that never happened when she restored Angel's soul. Maybe it's because Spike gave this to her. Or maybe it's just because he's Spike and that always seems to complicate her life.

She's carried out of the cave and she can feel Spike walking behind them in a way that's so much stronger than the feeling of Buffy's arms cradling her.

One thing she knows – Spike was right. Tara is gone – Tara is truly gone – and the space that ought to belong to her is occupied by something she's never loved, never kissed, never touched with worshipful hands.

Willow bursts into tears.

Buffy and Xander think it's because of the pain in her new-knitted flesh.

She lets them.

The End.


End file.
